Protection for the Dead
by starlight1395
Summary: Sealand just wants to be a real country, but England has other thoughts. The wrong things were said, and three days later, Peter Kirkland was found dead in his ocean fort. At the funeral, Arthur admits things he was afraid to say when his little brother was alive. He has a very special present to give his little fort. Warning: Suicide! SeaLat (SealandxLatvia)


The blade glinted in the soft candle light. It was a beautifully crafted steel blade with a cherry wood handle. A slow laugh escaped my lips, but it was more of a choked sob.

Today was another world meeting. Jerk-England was hosting it, and was pacing the room waiting for America. I had tried my hardest to be polite like he wanted me to be. I carefully said 'excuse me, Arthur?' and waited for his reply. He turned, furious. Before I knew it, a calloused hand was striking me across the face.

Sitting dazed on the floor by Jerk-England's feet, I staring up at him with hurt reflecting in my sea blue eyes. He stalked closer, fire blazing through the forest green orbs that I used to love so much.

"Goddammit Peter! You're not a bloody country! No one **actually** wants you around! Why can't you see the disgust in everyone's face when you walk into the room!

They DREAD it whenever you show up! Everyone would **HONESLTLY** be happier if **YOU'D JUST FUCKING DIE ALREADY**!" He was spitting in rage, but I was numb.

Without thinking, I stood up and dimly walked out. I could hear England calling apologies, but I couldn't hear anything. Not the horns as I wandered across the street or the police officer asking where my parent was.

Now I'm back at my fort. I gave up thinking of it as a nation. There's no point left. A smile slowly spread across my face as I watched the flame glint off the silver blade. Another crazed laugh slipped through tight lips as the blade rested on a pure, untainted wrist

In a flash, a gash, deep as it was bleeding, spilt my lifeblood onto the metal floor of my cabin. The delicious pain was like a drug. Each slice, each butchering action left me with a chilling blossoming feeling in the pit of my stomach. Again and again until my entire write was a patchwork of bloody incisions. With shaking hands I took the blade in my left hand and repeated the action, over and over.

England's words replayed in my mind with each slice of the blade.

"No one actually wants you around!"

Slash!

"Why can't you are the disgust is their faces!?"

Slash...

"Everyone would be happier if you just FUCKING DIED!"

Slashslashslashslash

More and more blood gushed into the floor, making a colorful lake surrounding my heavy body. I fell to my knees and observed my handy work with morbid fascination. As my vision began to blur, I remembered something England ha told me many years ago. He told me that nations couldn't die, no matter how fatal the wound.

To bad I'm not a nation.

England's POV

It was the day if Sealand's funeral. Poor lad lay alone for three days before anyone thought to look for him-

A whimper caught in the back if my throat. Sealand was gone, and it was entirely my fault. He was so bright. So full if life! I lied to him out of frustration I had pent up because of the threat France sent me before the meeting. I told him that everyone was disgusted with him, that they would be happier with him gone.

The truth was that everyone loved the young micro nation's company, the smiles and laughs he would bring. He thought he was unloved, but the truth was he was more loved then I had vet been.

I wanted to keep him pure and innocent forever. If he became a true nation, others like Russia and France would try and take him away and claim him for themselves. I didn't want him to know what it felt like when your country is bombed or how a war can kill you in the inside.

I didn't it all to protect him, but ended up pushing him over the edge. The tears finally fell down my face as I clutched an envelope to my chest. Walking up to the casket, I pulled a thick, official document from the envelope. Turning to the other nations gathered, I took in the sight that I had caused.

Latvia crying hysterically, burying his face in Russia think over coat, not caring that the man had hurt him to many times to count. I always thought there was something between them, and poor Ravis's reaction all but confirmed it. All around the room, nations were in different stages of grief. I cleared my throat to get their attention. I never realized how loved Peter really was.

"We gathered today to morn the loss of Peter Kirkland, or the NATION of Sealand." I brandished the document that stated Sealand was officially a nation.

As the gathered nations read it, gasps and renewed sobs filled my ears. As I placed the document into the casket, right on his chest, I realized how small he truly was. He seemed to have curled in on himself. Had the stillness of his chest not made mine hurt, the small nation could have been asleep.

"All he ever wanted was to be recognized as a nation, and now in death he has. I recognize Sealand as a nation!"

"As do I!" France was the first to speak up, something I never would have guessed.

"The little dude deserved it! The hero sees him as a nation!"

"Lovi and I recognize him as a nation!" Spain called out from across the room, ad

Romano didn't even protest. All around the room nations were hoeing their recognition for my younger brother.

Before I could do anything I would regret, I said what had been on my mind since he came into my life. I told the other nations my reasons for being so harsh.

"All I wanted to do was keep him safe. Keep him whole. He may have acted strong, but he never would have been able to survive the pain you feel when your country is attacked. I just wanted to keep him safe…but it's my fault he's like this. I just wish I could say I was sorry…"

They seemed to understand, especially the larger, older nations like Spain, France and Russia. No one tried to deny it was my fault. They knew it wouldn't help yet. Maybe they could try and convince me when Peter's death wasn't so fresh in everyone's mind.

A gasp ran through the crowed, along with quite a few screams. I whirled around and collapse against the casket. Sealand was sitting up, staring at his hands.

The cuts on his wrists had healed completely but his voice was barely a whisper.

"That's why? Why didn't you tell me big brother?" I tried to reply, but I was too busy wrapping the small child in my arm and burying my face in his hair to hide my tears. Someone pushed between us, and I backed away. When I realized what had happened, several people were already 'aawwing'. Latvia had my little brother in a tight embrace, lips locked tightly.

But I didn't care. I was happy for them.

My baby brother was back and I was never letting him go.

** So this came into being after I had a fight with my friend (who RPs as Sealand) about Sealand not being a nation and even though I'm a cold hearted bitch, I may have teared up just a little bit while writing this…and if anyone is still confused, Sealand came back to life because the other nations finally recognized him as a true nation, and nations cannot die.**


End file.
